Passage
by videotape
Summary: Set 12 Years after Sky High. Will Stronghold and Warren Peace find themselves at opposite ends when the greatest battle between super-villains begins and innocent people - heroes and civilians alike - are caught in the crossfire.


**Chapter One: The World Traveler**

* * *

They invite him to dinner when he returns from his long stay abroad. All smiles and hand shakes, an awkward and too long a hug from _her_. Will wore a tie and glasses, fit with his real estate secret identity. Layla maintained an airy quality with her simple greens and vibrant red hair.

He was still not through the transition process. Back to the fast paced world, or rather the quiet suburban look of shoes, slacks and collar shirts. The adults they're supposed to be. He'd only been back to the states for a day, still had the beard that grew out in his stint in South Africa.

Layla says a couple things before leaving them to tend to the dinner she was making. "I know. I made steak, too," she adds, giving Will a quick kiss before disappearing into the kitchen.

Warren is tired but he tries to appear as enthusiastic as possible. The last time he was here the house was empty. Will and Layla were just married and soon after they found a place in the same neighborhood as the older Strongholds. The house was... nice. He never cared to judge.

"Four years," Will starts, leading Warren to the study where a mini bar waited. "What in the world did you do?"

Will's inquiries are genuine, but the truth was he wanted to know why Warren didn't go the normal route Heroes at Sky High took. A part of him feared Warren would stray. Take the other, more sinister Baron Battle road. So far he hadn't heard of a super villain torching innocent villages. It was Layla who constantly reminded him Warren wasn't evil and just needed time. Will hoped four years was good enough time.

Warren took a seat, sighs. The study was impressive. The walls had built-in mahogany shelves with volumes of leather bound books. There was a desk he was sure Will never used. A map on a wall, a display case of the football trophies Will won when he became a senior.

"It's all... boring," is all he'll say. Will hands him a drink and smiles, nods, leaving it at that. They were friends, good friends, the kinds of friends who've fought a couple times. This no-sharing policy was understood. "I've seen you on the news. Very impressive, Stronghold."

Flattery suited Will. He grinned, would pat himself on the back if he could. "The suit took a bit getting used to."

Warren toasts to that. "Here's to latex."

Will raises his own glass in cheers. "Layla shares your sentiments exactly. I tell her she looks amazing, and would be a ringer for Poison Ivy if she just—"

"Are you two talking about me?"

Warren stood up as courtesy. Layla made a beeline for Will. She put her arm around him and they kiss. Warren downs his drink, made his way to the mini bar and pours himself another inch of scotch.

"We can't help it," Will says in mock defense. "Now that Warren is back. We can talk about finally getting The Peace-Stronghold Union off the ground. And if that happens, you know we're going to have to convince you to get on board."

"Has he even convinced _you_, yet?" Layla asks Warren.

"Not a chance."

"Then, if Warren isn't becoming a super hero then neither am I." She kisses Will again, lets out a little moan of contentment. "I slaved over an oven making you two dinner tonight."

"You grow ninety percent of the food."

"And you think that doesn't take any energy out of me?"

Will kisses her cheek. "Of course it does." He set his glass on the table. "Shall we?"

-

"You wouldn't believe. After all the trouble. The infrastructure we destroyed in downtown. The helicopter getting blown to bits. The number of cars that are going to have to be replaced. Not to mention a rip in the back of my suit. All I had to do was push the button."

Layla nearly spills her drink. The story still made her laugh. She remembers Will coming home and telling her the six weeks of chasing after The Candle Four, all the fighting they had to go through, the sleepless nights and constant research... the Candle Four set their device to stop completely, self-destruct, with an off button.

"An off button!" Will bolts once again.

The table is all laughs. Warren able to handle the sudden woozy feeling that was coming along from the constant, natural, wine Layla made herself. Will was sitting at the head of the table, Layla across from him, and in between all of them bowls and bowls of organic food. Untouched for the most part, Warren had a few vegetables but wasn't one to indulge Layla. Will ate it up because as her husband and as a super hero, had to.

Layla leans forward on her elbows. Having finished her plate faster than either of them, the bulk of the hour was spent listening to them share stories. Will more than Warren. He was unusually quiet. Not that Warren ever spoke for the sake of speaking, but twelve years of friendship gave her a good notion of him. She sensed something was off.

"So, world traveler," Layla begins after the laughter dies. "You don't want to tell us about your adventures. How about the small things? Did you meet people?"

Warren nods. "I met people."

"Small people?" Will asks, laughs. Delightfully drunk.

"All kinds." Warren's own form of elaboration.

"The female kind?" Will continues.

Warren isn't embarrassed but he can't bring himself to speak of this with Layla around. "I was gone for four years. Let's just say I wasn't alone."

"Were you lonely?"

Warren doesn't mean to frown but he does and quickly the jubilant mood turns. For years Layla pushed more than anyone for Warren to simply... find _someone_. She had hoped this sojourn would finally bring someone into his life, give him the happiness he deserved. Apparently this didn't happen.

"I did okay, Layla." There's finality in his tone that ends the conversation without the anger that could've been.

Will clears his throat. "I have an early day tomorrow. We're in between super evil lulls."

"Fortunately," Layla comments. She could count on one hand how many times they've slept all the night through.

"Den's all yours," Will offers, extending his hand, calling it a night. Warren takes it and they shake. There was strength on both ends. The men were glad to be back together again. "And I'm a bit intoxicated. I'll leave you two to it." He goes to Layla and kisses her. "Goodnight, Mrs. Stronghold."

Layla smiles and watches as her husband leaves the dining room, speeds up stairs.

Warren shook his head, half smiling. "Why does he do that?"

"Because he can," Layla says with pride. She pauses, knows he won't say anything first. "I'm sorry, Warren. I just want you to be happy."

He interrupts her with a laugh that indicates all is forgiven. There wasn't anything to forgive, not really. "Don't worry about it."

After a small and idiotic debate, on Warren's part, it was decided he was to stay in the den. Layla grabbed a few sheets, extra pillows, and showed him to the room. After she set everything she walked to an empty vase and from her hands sprung an arrangement of yellow, orange and red flowers. He couldn't tell what they were but knew she had purposely made them all his colors.

"Show off."

"Show off?" Layla fakes being insulted. "What about you, Mr. Fireworks? If I recall, you put on quite a show at my wedding."

"That was a special occasion."

"What about my birthday?"

"Another special occasion."

"And when I had my tonsils removed?"

Warren shrugs. "No excuse there."

"No excuse? People in the hospital are supposed to be on their way out, not prolonging their stay." Layla can still remember the shock of seeing the red hues through the hallways. She doesn't even know exactly what he did, but it made a lot of people laugh and a lot of other people scared out of their minds. "How about now?"

"Now?"

"I haven't seen you try anything since you got here."

Warren sighs. "My beard might catch on fire."

It hurt seeing him reject an opportunity to use his power. It's never stopped him before, he was immune to his own pyro produced flames. A part of her wished he'd risk loosing that scruffy thing hiding his face for her. "Okay," she says, dropping it. "Goodnight, Mr. Peace." She hugs him, so glad to have him back. Less awkward when she opened the front door a few hours earlier and saw him for the first time in four years. She kisses his cheek, touches his beard and smiles. "You know he won't stop until you're in red spandex."

"I know."

"Will you even consider it?"

"Will you?"

"That's another story for another time," she says, making her way out the den.

* * *


End file.
